“I can’t believe they named it after you,” Val said, grinning.
I shook my head at the plaque outside Gateway’s newly built creative arts space. It was in a loft on the top floor of the building neighboring Gateway, and had a space for dance, a black box theater, as well as an art studio. Below it was a flower shop, which in my opinion gave a really awesome aesthetic. I hadn’t been involved with any of those decisions, but seeing what had once been nothing more than a text proposal come to fruition as a physical space made my heart beat faster. Come Monday, it would be full of a bunch of artistic queer kids.
“Cafferty wouldn’t be talked out of it, because my donation is largely what got it built.”
I stopped staring at the plaque to instead frown at my appearance in the glass wall spanning the new space. A ribbon blocked off the entryway, which I was supposed to be cutting in front of a bunch of cameras in the next hour. I’d worn knee-high combat boots and a gold and black kimono for the occasion. Instagram, and my new squad of baby queers at Gateway, had approved.
“Stop fidgeting.” Val pushed my hands down, ghosting his fingers over the silky material of the kimono and sliding down my thighs. There were plenty of staff lingering around to set up for the opening and banquet, but he didn’t care. “You look amazing, and this night is going to be really fucking amazing. I’m just laughing because it’s called A-Town Arts Center.”
“I know, right? But it was that or Townsend Arts Center.” I glanced at his reflection in the glass to see his eyes running all over me. After six months, catching him checking me out on the sly was still so thrilling. “A-Town is an annoying nickname, but at least it’s mine.”
“Good point.” Val put his hands on my shoulders and spun me around. He leaned closer, and I went slack against the wall so that his body pressed to mine. Months of dating me had done nothing to upgrade his fashion sense—he’d worn dark jeans and a black button-down to the opening. At least he’d conceded and worn my motorcycle boots instead of his sneakers. “Where are we going after this?”
“Can we go to your place?” I asked. “My apartment is full of moving boxes.”
“Depends on how long we stay here. I have to get up early tomorrow, and I might want to stay over here to avoid the drive.”
“How early?”
“The recreation coordinator at Gateway wants me over here at seven.”
“Booo, I’d planned to make you breakfast.” There were people coming up the stairway, but I didn’t move, and Val didn’t shift away. His gaze didn’t flicker, but I could tell he was yanking down the invisible shutter around us that kept paparazzi and photogs out of mind even though they were plainly in sight. It was the only way we functioned in public without being constantly self-conscious about photos being snapped. “Why is she having you come at the crack of dawn?”
“From what she said, they’re considering hiring me to supervise the current fitness space for the evening shift.” Val’s lips quirked up just slightly, but I could tell he was excited by the prospect. “It’d be pretty cool, I think. A lot of the kids who lobbied for Gateway Pride go there regularly.”
“Ooh, good point.” I wiggled my hips against him. “Is it staying Gateway Pride or are they naming that program after Decker? I know Brett donated to the project even after it was funded by the state.”
“No,” Val said sharply. “The name is staying. Thank God.” He still despised Brett Decker after all these months. “Anyway, I’m hoping if I get to know the kids, Brett’s nephew included, I can also start selling them on the boxing thing so they don’t all gravitate back to fucking handball.”
“Babes, you won’t have to sell it. A lot of these kids will jump at the chance of learning how to defend themselves. Especially with a piece-of-ass trainer like you. I mean unf.”
“With a piece-of-ass boyfriend,” he said, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Who is begging to have this dress thing around his waist by the end of the night.”
“Shhh. It’s a kimono.” I did nothing to deter him from trailing kisses down my neck. “And you’re going to scare the media folks!”
“Fuck them.”
The words were met by a clamber of footsteps and the clicks and flashes of several cameras.
“Smile, Vashton!”
I rolled my eyes at our ship name but twisted away from Val to grin for the photographers. Val, on the other hand, buried his face against my neck and kept nuzzling me.
“Hello, gents,” I cooed, striking a pose as they snapped away. “I’m kind of disappointed to see some of the same old faces when I was hoping for highbrow newspaper peeps to come through for the opening.”
“Uh, I resent that Townsend.” Tatyana Rush pushed her way to the front wearing her Village Voice badge. “There’s a sexy lady from WaPo downstairs too. I plan to have her number by the end of the night.”
“Ooh, impressive.” I tried not to laugh even though my big boxer boyfriend was basically trying to hide behind me. His arms slid around my waist, and he finally glared up at the cameras. “I love a lady killer with a badge—even if she broke my poor friend Mere’s heart.”
“Oh please. She’s the lover and leaver here, not me. And I heard she had her sights set on a Marine. Figured she’d switch sides.”
I flipped her off with a brilliant smile, holding the pose long enough for about three dozen pictures. “Get your investigative reporting right, Taty. That Marine is a woman, and you can save your bi hate for your blog. What does it get, again? Forty visitors a month? Might have something to do with all that erasure.”
“Sassy,” Tatyana said, grinning. I had a feeling she was just trying to get a rise out of me or Val. “Hey, lover boy, do you speak?”
“When I have something worthwhile to say,” Val rumbled. “Do you have something worthwhile to ask?”
“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin with her phone. “I have a feeling you’re a one-answer kind of guy, so I’ll hold out until I think of something quote inspiring.”
I had to laugh. “Good call.”
Other people were starting to walk up the stairs behind my tiny swarm of photogs, and Val jerked his head to the side.
“You guys got your pictures?” he asked.
“One question,” a guy in the back yelled. I was pretty sure he was from one of the nastier gossip blogs. “How does it feel to have traded your boxing career to be arm candy for a kid only famous for his bank account and sex tape?”
My body went tense as I stood ramrod straight, ready to release the real extent of my sass on this douche-nozzle, and go off about how Val worked two jobs, volunteered at Cadet’s, and was getting a coaching job at Gateway soon, but Val spoke up before I could.
“It feels great,” he said easily. “How does it feel to make a career out of dragging and slut-shaming a queer man who has an LGBT center named after him? Because if you’re trying to make either of us feel bad, or create resentment between us, you’ll always fail. We’re solid, Investigator Fuckboy. Solid enough to be moving in together next month.”
The guy’s jaw dropped as Tatyana laughed.
“Now that was quote worthy.” She snapped her own picture. “You ready to go viral, my lovelies?”
“We’re ready for anything,” Val said.
He drew me into another kiss and, even with people flooding the space to surround us, I didn’t see anyone but him.